


Get Her Back

by Merissac



Category: Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: Awkward Romance, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Sarkan having trouble with a certain four-letter word, Sharing a Bed, abrupt make-out, partying peasants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 10:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merissac/pseuds/Merissac
Summary: Extended ending. What will Sarkan say to her mother? Does Sarkan stay for the harvest festival? Will Agnieszka get Sarkan to admit his true reasons for coming back? (hint: its not the taxes.)





	1. Reunited

(Sarkan)

I arrived just this afternoon, the day of the valleys’ harvest festival. I told everyone I meet along the way that I had come to collect the taxes. But of course I had come for _another reason_. 

The months I spent in Kralia had really taken their toll on me. I suppose I had neglected that, ‘ _another reason_ ’ for far too long. As I looked at myself in the mirror of the small room I was renting at the inn in Olshanka - where I actually did collect the taxes mind you - I saw that my lavish outfit did nothing to hide my thinner frame or paler face. 

Although I felt better then I have in months, I still was running on very little sleep. The shadows under my eyes a telling sign. Before I arrived, I was so nervous thinking of how I would explain myself; my abrupt departure, my lack of even a short letter. I spent half my nights thinking of what to say, and the other half crafting my little savior should my words fail me. 

I stuffed the bit of magic in my breast pocket and took one last look at myself, running a hand through my hair and straightening my dragon embroidered jacket. I gripped the wash basin bracing myself as I swayed a little with exhaustion and nervousness, taking in a final steadying breath. 

“Time to go make a fool of yourself,” I said to the sickly looking, absurdly over dressed man in the mirror as I spelled myself to Dvernik. 

(Agnieszka)

“Come and meet my mother,” I said. I reached out and took his hand. 

It was just as I remembered it, the strength of his clasp, the unusual warmth that penetrated his skin and the way those long pen-callused finger tips brushed the underside of my wrist. My heart did a happy flutter as I pulled him over to my mothers chair. The sociable smells of fire roasted meat and good spirits still hung heavily in the air. The harvest festival rebellious to wind down even in the sleepy orange glow of the setting sun. 

He was definitely not in his element, dressed for the fancy ballrooms of Kralia rather than our rustic festival. To see him among the throng of our celebration was so perfectly out of place, needless to say, he turned more than a few heads. I could tell he almost wanted to pull away but wouldn’t dare with the eyes of the entire village on him, standing out like a swan in a coup of barnyard chickens. His lips thinned in prickly mortification as we stood in front of my mothers’ chair, pink touching his cheeks. 

I didn’t feel sorry for the pink, however. He hadn’t written and left without much explanation. I almost wanted to be mad at him but couldn’t. I suppose his little bit of embarrassment was the only small punishment I could muster. 

After all, I had no doubt that he was not just here for the taxes and for that I was glad, the suspicion in my heart confirmed. Certainly, the taxes where collected in Olshanka. He had no business in a small village like Dvernik. And of course if he were worried about the effect of the river water, he would have at least stayed away for another ten years or so, and hired a representative to do the collecting for him. 

“Mother, I would like you to meet Sarkan, lord of our valley.” He gingerly pulled his hand free from mine to shake my mothers, each of them bowing to the other respectfully. There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence until Sarkan finally found his words. Through all his obvious unease he still spoke eloquently as ever. 

“You must be very proud of your daughter. Without her help I’m sure I would have failed more than once to protect this valley from the Woods corruption. She has been invaluable to us all. If you or any other member of her family should need anything at all, I am personally at your service.” It was so strange to hear him give me such high compliments after all his reprimands when he first started teaching me magic. I couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the corner of my lips. I took up his hand again, feeling him stiffen slightly with nervousness. 

“I am honored, my lord.” My mother bowed again, but he waved her off and motioned for her to sit back down in her chair.

“Just Sarkan will do.” My mother nodding in response. “I don’t feel I deserve to be honored however.” He spoke a little louder seeing that many of the villagers had gone quiet, listening to him speak to my mother, too drunk on beer and dancing to be polite. “Agnieszka had informed me that some of you thought I was taking the girls to… That my reasons for taking them were...” Eloquence failing, I was now even beginning to feel sorry for his mortification. The low light of the evening fire unable to conceal his fully flushed face. 

“I have explained this to my mother and all the villagers already. You only took us to cut off some of the Woods power. We all have a connection to this land through drinking the Spindle's water and that could be used as a channel to weaken the Wood.” A look of relief flooded his face as I saved him. 

“Thank you, Agnieszka but I still owe your mother an apology.” He put his other hand on the feasting table next to my mother as if he were fighting to support some tremendous weight and leaned in slightly towards her. “I was so bent on doing anything I could to stop the Wood, I didn’t think to explain myself. I didn’t think of how it might look. To say, ‘I’m sorry’ is surely not enough but I am deeply sorry. I only hope that you could forgive me one day.” 

“If you truly mean what you say, then today I can forgive you, my lor- Sarkan. I just have one question.” My mother bit her bottom lip, unsure of herself. 

“Anything,” Sarkan coaxed.

“Why girls?”

“I took girls because we live in a society that generally favors a male heir,” he explained. “The valley is mainly made up of farmers and merchants. Most boys, at their coming of age, begin to learn the trade of their fathers so that they can eventually inherit their business. While girls will just begin courting and probably get married off anyhow. I didn’t feel I had the right to disrupt a families way of making a living. If I thought – well I suppose I wasn’t thinking, but if I thought you all saw me as some kind of...monster, I would have found a different way or at the very least explained myself. 

“Of course I won’t be taking any girls anymore. I hear the Wood is Agnieszka’s charge now. If half the rumors are true she’s doing a far better job than I ever could.” I couldn’t help but smile at the unmistakable pride in his voice. 

I caught my mother now eyeing our clasped hands – a sign of courtship, with questioning eyes. I was surprised at how quickly she became at ease around Sarkan because she didn’t let her eyes be the only part of her that did the questioning. 

“I am glad you do not need to take girls from the valley anymore, but you do seem quite taken with my daughter,” gesturing at our clasped hands. In some situations my mother possessed an even sharper tongue than Sarkan. I could feel him trying to let go of my hand subtly but I only held tighter. 

“Well we… I… Agnieszka and I haven’t even discussed anything yet.” All his initial eloquence out the window. 

All formality abandon, my mother looked to me. A hint of excitement in her voice. “So when did this all begin?” 

Sarkan and I really did need to discuss things first, and though in my heart I was sure of his reasons for coming back, I needed to hear it from him before I could confirm our courtship. However, some small remnant resentment churned deep within my belly at the way he had left. I knew I wasn’t corrupted but perhaps some of the sorrows still hidden in the Wood had affected me and I needed to see him squirm with embarrassment just one last time. 

“Well Mother, it all started the night Prince Marek attacked Sarkans’ tower,” I said sweetly, knowing Sarkan would surely let me go no further. Memories of that night in his bedroom flashed before my eyes heating my cheeks and churning my core. I was taken aback by just how much I was effected. During his absence, though I cared for him deeply and did miss him, I tried not to dwell on the idea of him coming back. I kept myself busy with my work in the Wood and was very content with my life. But now the full force of just how much I did miss him was rising to the surface. Even my magic seemed hungry for his, humming close to the surface of my skin. 

His interruption on cue, “Agnieszka!” he said far too loudly. “I promised you a dance and if I’m not mistaken I think the band is on their last set for the evening,” his face had gone paler than parchment. 

After some parting words to my mother and a promise that I would talk to her more about it tomorrow, Sarkan directed me towards the music.

“What were you telling her you, reckless renegade?” The moment we were out of ear shot. 

We walked past the row of serving tables, full of crumbs and picked clean of the best foods. A few happy flies buzzed about the ravaged remains, beginning a feast of their own. Sarkan only scowled at the mess. 

“Did you actually think I was going to give my mother details of the night we spent together?” I teased. 

“Well of course I didn’t!” his feathers ruffled, his nerves getting the better of his usual quick intelligence. “But with you, one can never be too sure,” he amended. We walked slowly towards the music as he listened intently while I explained to him how I was cleansing the Wood. He was curious to hear the details but still a little worry crept into his features. I knew it would take him some time to fully trust that I was handling the Wood. 

We stopped and stood at the edge of the circle, the last orange rays of sunlight illuminating the tops of the trees. We watched the bustle of flowing skirts and quick steps pass us by in whirls. The music at a fast paced, lively beat. The grass had already been stamped into oblivion with happy feet. 

We stood side by side watching the dancing for what seemed like a long time. I caught Sarkan eyeing me with a look I couldn’t quite decipher. A look I could only describe as fascinated concentration, as if he were working one of his more intricate spells. A memory of the almost passionate spark in his eye when his face caught the spell light.

Every now and then, I saw many of the villagers give him sidelong looks as he stood with me on the edge of the dancing circle, curious to see if he would actually dance. The Dragon participating in a festival was so new to us I understood their reasons for staring. I saw two of the boys I had danced with earlier on the other side of the circle, pointing at us with unbridled interest. 

“Agnieszka,” he said, a note of worry in his voice. “Can I talk to you some place more… private.” I think he was starting to feel the eyes on him. 

“No,” I said flatly. “I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. I believe you promised me a dance.” 

“That was just to stop you from saying something vulgar to your mother you, impossible creature! Anyway, I don’t think it would due well for my toes when you start stepping on my feet,” more tease than insult.

“Well Kasia’s brothers thought I was a pretty good dancer.”

His eyes narrowed in defeat, maybe even a hint of jealousy. “Fine.”

With his unusual strength he pulled me to the center of our makeshift dance floor. We positioned ourselves further apart to accommodate for the quick step of the lively beat but as soon as we did the music changed to a slower melody. Sarkan looked up and scowled at the sky as if someone up there decided to annoy him at every turn today. The quieter tune forced our bodies closer as we swayed to its lazy sound. 

At first Sarkan’s movements were a little ridged, while mine were a bit clumsy. As he predicted, I almost did step on his feet. Almost. But after our initial moment of awkwardness, we began quickly to compliment each other. It reminded me of the way we would work a spell together. Though our magic was very different, each came together and filled in where the others was lacking to form something perfectly complete. 

Before long, his rigidness made me seem more graceful, while my clumsiness made him appear more loose. Our dance was becoming just as powerful as our combined magic, beautiful and whole, something greater than the sum of its parts. His hands gently rested on my waist. The familiar warmth of them quickly penetrating my light sundress. While my hands gripped his thin shoulders. 

As I held on to him I noticed his shoulders felt even thinner than usual. And when the firelight illuminated his face from the blurry dusk around us, I saw shadows under his eyes as if he were very tired or had been ill. Yet, his expression seemed soft. A look of relief flooded his features despite his tired eyes and thinner frame. I half wondered if he used his elaborate dress to hide his slightly stricken look. 

As we turned and swayed the music took us under its’ power too, like wind takes fields of grass in the breeze. The music having its own kind of magic. Sarkan and I caught in the wind of its spell. A spell so powerful it was as if the music was only for us. Our dance on a separate plane entirely from the rest of the festival. We were dancing so beautifully for a moment I thought maybe he really was using magic to move us so.

“Of course not. You forget I was raised in Kralia where it is practically mandatory to be a good dancer.”

When the music stopped our hands seemed to find one another on instinct. Suddenly I felt the warm prickle of his magic run up my arms. I saw his shoulders stiffen with surprise as I was sure some involuntary magic of my own had reached out and touched him as well. A sudden urge to kiss him almost over took me despite the curious eyes of half of Dvernik on us. The quiet heat of his stare spoke of similar feelings. Our faces slowly drifting closer on opposing currents set to collide.

“I really missed you.” Speaking before his gaze could catch me on fire. 

Without warning he pulled me flush against his chest and I felt the sudden whirl of his transportation spell.


	2. Readjusted

My stomach flipped like a flap-jack and when we landed on unsteady feet we were standing in the middle of his towers ruined library, of course. 

I took in the broken window, the scattered glass and papers all over the floor, one of his beloved bookshelves completely toppled over spilling its treasure. I couldn’t help feeling a little sorrowful at the destroyed room he loved so much. 

“I missed you too,” he said quietly, far too out of breath for the simple spell and slow dance. I was still pressed against him and for a moment I thought he might -. But abruptly he took a step back and surveyed his damaged library. He paced the room picking up the scattered papers and placing them on his desk. I silently helped him flip his toppled table back over before he thought to ask. But when he started righting some of the chairs, I was beginning to get impatient. 

“Well?” I prodded. 

“Well you don’t expect me to live in a mess like this!” 

“So your staying?”

“Yes. I have to stay,” lowering his voice and looking at the floor. I twinge of nervousness ran through my body at the way he said, ‘ _I have to stay_ ,’ as if he didn’t want to. “And I’m going to need your help as soon as possible to fix up the tower,” able to look at me again, the normal clip back in his voice. 

“So this is what you needed to speak to me in private about?” 

“Well, yes and no,” he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose after he plopped down in one of the chairs he righted. 

“So what else is it then?”

“Do you not possess even the smallest amount of patience!” he said, looking absolutely frustrated. I couldn’t help but giggle at his choice of words. My face heated at the memory of the last time I heard him call me impatient. He tried to suppress a smile but it over took him. He really was beautiful when he smiled, though he rarely did. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at me, a little embarrassed that I was laughing at his pillow talk. 

He motioned for me to sit in the chair next to him. I crossed the room careful to avoid the hole in the floor. The chair wobbled under my weight, abused in our battle with Marek and the Wood Queen. He looked into my eyes for a moment but then kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke.

“The capital wants you trained as a master sorcerer,” he said bluntly. “Just because you are on the list as a witch does not make you a true master, that takes years of training. Of course, I have the exceedingly difficult task of training you,” he joked. But his joke fell flat as my heart sank and my stomach dropped. I felt as if I had been on the top branch of the highest tree, happy and free, all new life buzzing with anticipation. But now the branch had broken and I was falling. Falling to the ground where the dead things lie, all hope abandoned. 

Could I have so grossly misread the situation? The way we danced together, the way he looked at me, the way he held me, I thought he… Maybe I was just projecting the wants of my own heart? I quickly came to the conclusion that he hadn’t come back for me after all. It was like he said, he _had_ to come back, to train me. He didn’t _want_ to come back and he certainly didn’t want me in the same way I wanted him. He never wanted roots.

“It’s actually a funny story—why I came back,” he continued. But my ears felt stuffed and my eyes blurred with un-fallen tears. He started saying something but I heard little else because all I could think about was how I had made a fool of myself. How I had pulled him over to meet my mother. How I had held his hand, giving my mother and the entire village the impression that we were courting! 

Before I really did start to cry, I jumped up and ran out of the room with my throat tight and my head light. He called my name as I heard him only steps behind me on the winding staircase. Out of old habit and desperation, I ran up, up, up to my old narrow bedroom. I slammed the door and threw the chair under the knob before he could even reach the landing. I suppose all my work in the Wood had made me swift on my feet. 

“Agnieszka! Please open the door. I think I know why you’re upset. I’ve explained things all wrong.”

I was so embarrassed I hoped he _didn’t_ know why I was upset! I tried to speak, to tell him I needed to be alone a moment but my throat was so knotted up only a choked sob escaped me. The noise I made must have startled him because he grabbed the knob and twisted it back and fourth violently, trying to retch open the door. I stood close to the door making sure it held strong. He gave up after a moment and I heard the door creek in protest when he leaned heavily against it in defeat. 

“Please Agnieszka, don’t make me use magic. I don’t have the energy,” his breath unusually heavy.

I was about to let him in, but when I caught a glimpse of myself in the tiny mirror above the wash basin I saw the dampness of tears trailing down my cheeks. I tried quickly to wipe them off with the hem of my dress. As I was still looking in the mirror for any telling dampness, ashamed of my puffy, red features he appeared out of the thin air only inches behind me, so close I could feel his breath on my neck. I was so startled I jumped away slamming my knee into the bed post. 

“Ouch!”

“Graceful as always,” he remarked.

He guided me to sit on the end of the bed then pulled up the chair that had been baring the door to sit across from me. He touched my leg moving slowly up towards the hem of my dress. For a second I remembered Marek and this room, and I flinched at the sudden touch. But the look Sarkan gave me instantly calmed me. His hand came to rest on my bruised knee and I heard him mutter some elaborate incantation. The prickly warmth of magic surrounded my knee and the pain quickly ebbed away. 

“Thank you,” I squeaked, my voice a little lost with the tears I had shed. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not very good at explaining things. I didn’t just come back to collect the taxes or teach you magic or even to fix my tower.” He looked to me to see if I was catching his meaning. He showed me what he came back for with his hands as he gripped mine tightly, stroking my wrists. He showed me with his eyes as they burned into mine with his bottomless stare. And he showed me with his lips as they gently touched mine. A feather light inquiry. My heart and my magic both sang at his touch. I could have pushed up into him and let his lips obliterate me. Oh, how I wanted too. 

But I needed more.

He couldn’t bare his soul, it just wasn’t in him. But I needed to hear the words, I needed that security. I broke the kiss before it could deepen and pulled away. 

“But I need you to explain things,” I said, already sorry I had ended his kiss.

He scowled at me. “I came back for you, you silly girl.”

“You came back for me because…,” I coxed. 

“Ugh. Must you always be difficult?” He stood up and paced the room. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to call me difficult after the way he left and after all the mixed signals he was giving me! I couldn’t stand this any longer. Maybe it was my turn to leave and keep him guessing if I will come back!

“I’m leaving. If you ever want to explain what your intentions are with me I’m sure you can find me with one of your…elaborate spells.” I shook my hand in the air in front of him.

“Wait!” He grabbed my hand just as I turned away from him. “You’re right, you deserve to know. Here. I have been meaning to give this to you.” He pulled out a beautiful red rose from the breast pocket of his dragon embroidered jacket. The thorns were all clipped away as if he had bought it from a flower shop.

“Thanks?” I said, trying not to sound too ungrateful. It was a beautiful rose and a lovely gesture, but I didn’t understand how it would help him explain his reasons for coming back. I pondered for a moment of the meaning the rose may have held for him. He stayed silent and looked mildly irritated as if handing me a rose should have told me everything. 

“So, is the rose a symbol for when we first kissed? It was just after our second time trying the rose illusion and -”

He sighed loudly. “Yes, it could be a symbol for that I suppose. But more importantly that is no ordinary rose you are holding so carelessly. It is a very intricate piece of magic.” 

As I held it I realized he was right. It certainly did not feel like a typical flower. It was oddly warm to the touch, almost like human skin, like his skin. The hum of magic breathed beneath its stem.

I held it up carefully. “What is it?” my voice full of wonder. 

“Well it’s a unique type of sight magic. Yet, in many ways it is a kin to the Summoning in that it reveals truth. My truth.” 

“How do we use it?”

“We both have to hold it. It opens with a simple chant. I’ll begin as you follow up with the same. I must warn you, Agnieszka this is very powerful magic and what you are about to see will feel very...real. Unlike the Summoning if you need to stop at any point you can simply let go of the rose, there should be no ill effects.”

“So this lets me see -”

“Like I said, my truth. Concerning you that is. If we had to see my whole truth we would be here all night at my age! 

“I knew it would be difficult for me to tell you how I felt and I also knew if I couldn’t tell you, you wouldn’t trust me especially after the way I left things. I would have just let you perform the Summoning on me but that is literally one of the most complicated spells in existence and it can be quite dangerous if interrupted. I don’t need to be cleansed of corruption so there is no need to be profligate. 

“I did see your truth, when I tried to pull you out of the Wood Queens heart-tree.” 

How could I have not thought about it before! I knew he performed the Summoning to get me out of the heart-tree. I knew he even drank from the Spindle to help him do it. But I never thought about what truth he must have saw in me! Suddenly, I felt completely naked before him, embarrassed and exposed. 

“Don’t worry, mine’s far more embarrassing than yours. Though, the fact that my name has a _taste_ to you was quite amusing. And I must say that night before we were...together, you thought of, ‘rubbing your hand-prints through my dust’. With all the years you have ahead of you as a witch, it really would be a shame if you didn’t write at least one sappy romance novel,” he teased. Crossing his arms over his chest he give me a self-satisfied smirk. I playfully shoved him, as I was sure my face was turning a vibrant shade of pink. 

But then a darker thought came to me. Right after he saw my truth he ran. Something in it had scared him and I had no doubt it was his reason for leaving the way he did. Suddenly, I felt unsure all over again.

I nervously took back my seat on the end of the bed in my former room, while Sarkan sat back down in the chair across from me. His face turned serious, as if he were about to battle a fully grown chimera. We both gripped the stem of the rose. My hand at the top of the stem, his at the base. My pinkie finger just lightly brushing his thumb. 

I thought I would have been uncomfortable sharing magic with him again after so much time had passed but I found it easier than breathing. It was enjoyable, fulfilling even. It was as if I had lived on only bread and water but now I was sitting down for a mid-winters feast. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed doing magic with him. I wondered if he enjoyed it like I did? 

He began the chant. It was a surprisingly simple three syllable phrase, ‘ _vish-su-brah_ ’. I followed his chant and immediately the rose began to glow from within, like a burning ember. It was so eerily beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. The room lit with its splendor. At the same time I felt Sarkan’s magic cautiously let mine into the spell, slowly, like his light inquisitive kiss had been. But once our spells caught it felt as though his magic was just as hungry for my magic as mine was for his. An urgency both of us had difficulty controlling. We knew the spell could collapse just as easily with too much magic as it could with too little. 

The crisp, clean edges of his sturdy magic hungrily wove mine into the spell. I felt his familiar power building up the walls and holding down the foundation of our working encouraging me to take the spell higher. But his magic wasn’t only the strong foundation holding our working up, quickly, the house that was are working melted down into a dense alloy. The pieces weren’t separate anymore. I felt the lines blurring together. 

The spell was making me feel a little strange. It was almost too intimate, as if I was invading some part of him that shouldn’t have been reached. He wasn’t just letting me use pieces of his magic but he had let my magic and me into all of his and him. 

Keeping my eyes on the rose the scene around it began to fade. The lines that made up the rose blurred too, and when I looked up I was in the doorway of Sarkan’s library. Not the ruined one, but his fastidiously neat one. When I looked back down the rose was gone, yet I still had the vague sense I remained in my narrow room at the top of the tower. The scene before me much like an illusion, realistic but not totally corporal.

I was staring at the back of someones head from across the room. It took me a moment to realize that it was my head I was starting at. _My hair really can be a disaster at times_. And it took me even longer to realize that I was seeing it from Sarkan’s point of view. 

Actually, it wasn’t exactly his point of view, I felt like I was somewhere just above his head. But I could feel everything; his magic, his emotions, even his thoughts. It was like I was occupying his very skin. 

The first thing I noticed was how different his magic felt on my fingertips. My magic was the easy flow of water down a stream, while his burned hungrily to be unleashed. It was almost as if he were a real dragon, holding back a great fire inside of him. It gave me a new understanding of his reasons for preferring such highly controlled and over-complicated spells. I could almost imagine him in his youth having difficulty wielding such a consuming force. 

As he watched me, I was merely a bit of curious magic, a puzzle to be solved. But then I felt it. I felt the moment his interest in my magic turned into something _more_. The moment the wall he built up around his heart cracked. It was around the time after I had cured him of corruption, when he was certain my magic was suited for healing. I remembered because I watched myself cutting up herbs on his table making a remedy for minor wounds. 

For the first time his heart beat a little faster with enjoyment. He liked seeing me in his library. I wasn’t only an obligation or a puzzle but a companion too. He liked that I made his world less empty. 

As he stared at me, the morning light streaming through the window caught my unruly, fly away hair. The halo of hair caught his eye along with an urge to touch it. But before he could even complete the dangerous thought he immediately admonished himself for it. I remembered him a moment later chiding me for making a mess of his table, calling me a, ‘messy village girl’. Of course his scolding was more for his own benefit. A way to remind himself that I was merely a ‘messy village girl’. 

From then on I saw quick visions of all his scoldings but most of the time they were only veiled attempts to shore up his walled heart. As time went on he even began to enjoy scolding me too. To him they became more of a way to tease me rather than insult me. I was half reminded of a school boy prodding a girl he liked with his quill, amused with her reaction and unaware of his fondness for her taking root in his own heart. 

The scene before me slowed again. I watched Sarkan hastily enter his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and leaned heavily against it, sinking down into a sitting position on the floor. His head falling into his hands. It was just after the first time we shared our magic, during the rose illusion. I still felt the ghost of my own magic on his fingertips. His thorough confusion rolled through me. Being so well read, he knew that in theory, sharing magic should be uncomfortable maybe even painful and usually impossible. In the over one hundred years he had been studying magic he had stumbled into something new and unknown to him. 

Though his passion for magic and curiosity were peaked, he promised himself he would not share magic with me again. It was just as enjoyable for him as it was for me, maybe even more so. This frightened him. The intimate feelings it stirred in him made him uncomfortable, even though in the days following he longed to try again. 

Scenes and emotions passed me by at dizzying speeds. The alarming worry he felt when I went into the Wood to save Kasia. The terrible guilt that ate at him after he saw her truth in the Summoning. All this on top of the confused longing he felt for me. 

At first, he convinced himself that it was only my strange magic that drew him, but as he watched my passion and determination to save Kasia his longing wasn’t only for my magic. I saw him watch me the day I sat at his library table sobbing in frustration looking for a way to cure Kasia. The day he had offered me a handkerchief and opened up to me about Lumilda. But what I didn’t see was how much he longed to pull me to his chest and hold me. In fact, every time I failed to cleanse Kasia, every time I trudged back up his stairs in tears he felt sorry. Truly sorry. It almost pained him to see me so. 

I saw him the night after we first kissed. He sat in his bed bewildered and staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. He knew he crossed a line he never intended on crossing. It worried him how easily it would have been to continue kissing me. And deep down he knew if I hadn’t stopped for that brief moment he wasn’t sure he would have. 

When I went off to the capital, at first he was glad to see me go. He mistakenly thought that with me out of his tower some of the longing he felt would fade. ‘ _At least I won’t be bumping elbows with that, disastrous distraction for a while. Out of sight out of mind. Hopefully_.’ 

But, as the days passed his longing only grew stronger. Even though he was busy burning back the Wood during the day, I saw quick visions of him pacing his library every evening. Even as he tried so hard to focus on his studies, I saw his eyes stray from his book to stare at the corner of the room where he had kissed me. ‘ _Focus, you pathetic old fool_!’ Needless to say, I watched this happen more times then I could count.

One such evening was particularly bad. I felt his longing and the loneliness as if they were my own. The heaviness of it weighed on me. He was so desperate I watched as he began making an illusion of me, just as I had done of him when I was in the capital. 

I watched as my illusion, stomping about the library, rustled papers and unorganized his books as he sat in his chair happily focused on his work. I nearly burst out laughing at the scene before me! When he stood up he took in the messy room with a smile. ‘ _Perhaps too realistic_.’ With a wave of his hand some of the mess disappeared. He walked up to my illusion and studied it as if he were an artist admiring his handy work. 

Suddenly, his stance shifted. He held himself looser and his face grew softer. I saw his hand drift closer to the illusion as if he could reach out and make me real. In his trance, his face moved in closer. I almost thought he was going to kiss it! He was inches from the illusion me when his shoulders suddenly stiffed up, realizing what he was doing.‘ _What in all the hopeless lunacy am I doing_ ,’ he shouted. The illusion quickly went up in smoke as he threw up his hands and stormed out of the library. I was sure if he would have just held it a moment longer he would have been able to contact me just as I was able to contact him. 

“I told you mine was far more embarrassing than yours,” Sarkan said, speaking through the spell, his hand now fully gripping mine. 

I smiled and the spell continued on. I saw brief visions of when I returned to his tower. Even though I had brought Kasia, the royal children and had and entire army at my heals, he was still happy to see me even though it hadn’t shown on his face. ‘ _Of course she would bring an entire army here, why should I have expected anything less! But she’s finally here_.’ 

I felt his moment of peace as he looked at me, lying beside him in his bed as he ran his fingers through my hair. The brief vision of that intimate moment bringing a flush to my cheeks… or his cheeks… I wasn’t sure. The spell had us so bound up together I wasn’t sure where his feelings ended and mine began. 

The peaceful moment was short lived however, his mind already working numerous plans to get me out of his tower alive. I was alarmed at how headless he was of his own life. It seemed he already prepared himself to go down with his tower if necessary. ‘ _If I can just get them out without doing something so foolish as letting myself or Agnieszka fall to the Wood, I’ll have done my job_. 

“This next part might hurt a little but just stick with me if you can,” he said, holding my hand a little tighter. 

Suddenly, I felt the arrow go through my chest again. I didn’t understand at first. I thought I should have still been seeing and feeling things from Sarkan’s point of view, but as I took in the scene around me I still was. I watched from across the table at myself as the arrow buried itself in me. But the pain. The pain felt just as sharp and abrupt as if I was reliving my own pain from the arrow wound. 

I couldn’t breathe. I forced myself to stay with the spell a moment longer and realized I was feeling his pain after all. The pain I had felt from the arrow was below my heart just under my left breast. His pain was I direct hit cut straight through his heart. And I felt it. Oh, how I felt it! But how strong he was as he continued grimly on with the Summoning. Just behind his relentless concentration on the spell I heard him somewhere deep as he pulled me down the stairs to the celler, ‘ _No, No, No_!’. 

Thankfully the scene shifted again, but it was no better than the one I had just left. I was in the grove watching as the Wood Queen stuffed me into her burning heart-tree. I felt the vines tightening around Sarkan. I felt the air being squeezed out of his lungs. But he didn’t seem to notice. After he heard my screams he was frantically trying to see what was happening to me. The vines wrapping around his face took most of his view, but through a small crevice he caught the moment I was put in the heart-tree. And in that moment his heart broke. I felt it. 

The cutting pain of it almost made me let go of the spell. His muffled, desperate pleas wrote agony into my ears. My heart almost broke too, as I heard his choked voice still trying to utter spells. But it was hopeless, the vines had already crawled thickly over his face and wrapped themselves tightly around his neck. He knew it was hopeless too. I heard his frantic thoughts quiet and watched his body begin to go limp. But I heard his last thought clearly. ‘ _I love you, Agnieszka_.’ Strangely, in that moment, an eerie, ember orange glow seemed to move under his skin. The vines burned and ran away from him without the use of a spell, a different kind of magic at work. 

Just hearing the word in his own thoughts warmed me. I could have let go of the rose just then, satisfied, but I let his spell continue on. I watched him stagger away, surprised the vines had let him go. He wanted to run towards me, but knew my only chance now was the Summoning. He clamored up the opposite bank of the pool and began the spell. The Wood Queen too busy repairing her burning heart-tree to notice him as he took greedy mouthfuls of the Spindle, reciting the fantastically long spell from memory. 

He saw my truth in the Summoning. He saw the desire I had in my own heart when I wished I could make him human. He saw that I was just as tangled up with him as he was with me, a connection that wrote itself into my very being. A connection far greater then even a lifetime of river water could provide. It could never truly be broken, the roots of our hearts already entwined and growing together. 

The grove faded and he was back in the tower. I watched as he lay me in my bed, still muddy from our battle. He stared at me for a moment. He even tucked the hair that had fallen in my face behind my ear. But he backed away slowly as if it was terribly difficult for him. The idea had already formed in his head before he left the room, and I heard it. ‘ _I can’t do this. She has feelings for me too, and If I stay any longer I won’t be able to stop myself. But I have to stop. I have to let her go_.’

I saw quick visions of him in Kralia. Not once did he get a full nights sleep, tossing and turning as if he were embroiled in some great battle. But the problem was he was battling himself, a kind of fight he could never win. He wasn’t only exhausting himself but he was making himself ill trying to deny his feelings. I felt the tight, uncomfortable, closed in feeling that never seemed to leave him. 

He even went to his precious books for answers, turning over the entire Charovnikov, looking for spells to sleep, to cure longing, addiction, lust, spells to sever ties. None truly worked. I watched as he kicked a stack of books over in frustration, leaving some poor librarian to clean up his mess as he stormed out. ‘ _I’ll never have a moments peace without her. I have to go back, if only to be able to sleep and breathe again_!’ 

I was almost shocked at how long it took him to realize that denying such feelings were unnatural, like trying to stop winter from coming or a flower from blooming. I couldn’t understand why he would go to such lengths to keep his heart so walled up?


	3. Replanted

As the spell came to an end I looked down and was able to see the rose again. His hand was still clasped around mine and the rose stem. The ember orange glow of its magic faded before my eyes, and it slowly became a normal rose again. 

The spell left me feeling raw and dizzy with so many different emotions. Silent tears rained from my eyes. I wanted to look up at Sarkan, but a sudden shyness crept in me. I felt like I had invaded his privacy somehow, as if I had watched him through a peep hole without him knowing. I had to give myself a private shake to remind myself he had willingly let me see so much. 

When I did look up his face seemed blank. Only the shine in his eyes could hint at the emotional effect the spell had had on him. He caught my stare and I immediately dropped the rose and wrapped my arms around his neck. In that moment I realized, I could love him. That is, I could finally let myself love him. While he’d been gone, I had loved him too, but I never let myself dwell on the feeling too long, unsure if he’d ever come back. Now I could let the feeling fully flow through me and it felt wonderful, like a burden I was unaware of had been lifted from my shoulders. “I love you too,” I said against his neck.

“I know,” he murmured through my messy hair. I pulled away and narrowed my eyes at his rudeness. “Literally, I know. It was in your Summoning.” He didn’t say it but his eyes added, ‘ _you idiot_ ’. 

“I have one question,” I blurted out. I almost felt sorry for asking anything more of him, but I needed the air completely clear between us. 

“Of course you would,” he stood up, getting a little annoyed and pacing the room again.

“Why did you try so hard to-”

“Let you go,” he finished for me. “Because I gave up, putting down roots as you would say, a long time ago. Agnieszka,” he sighed “the heart can only break so many times before it shatters completely and I have had over two lifetimes worth of heart breaks. I suppose I just didn’t want to take the chance anymore.” He paused while I gave him a solemn look, inviting him to continue. “I’m old enough to know that everything has an ending. There are no, ‘happily ever afters’ no matter how much the stories would like you to believe it. I wanted to let you go because I was afraid of losing you. You saw in the spell. I thought I did lose you," his voice became tight with emotion, something I'd never seen from him, "more than once. I can't...I don't want to ever lose you. And when I saw in the Summoning that you...felt as I did,” Even through the emotional moment, I could have almost laughed at how he still struggled with the word, love, “I had to leave because one day I will lose you, Agnieszka.” He gripped my wrists as if I was about to float away from him. When I looked up the shine in his eyes had dripped down into a single tear that fallen from his cheek and suddenly I felt tears of my own. We waited a moment before either of us spoke again. I think we were both just trying to rein in our emotions.

“But I’m a witch too;" I said finally "I’ll live just as long as you.”

“And contrary to popular belief we are not immortal! Arrows. Burning heart-trees. Corrupted wolves! And can you honestly say that in one hundred years you won’t find me to be an insufferable grump and I won’t find you to be a messy moron?” 

“No,” I answered honestly. “But Sarkan, we don’t need, ‘happily ever afters’ we just need _now_.” 

His face softened and something in his eyes told me he was laughing at himself. “Nieszka, you never cease to surprise me. Where were you hiding all this wisdom when I first met you?” he teased. I caught his eyes falling on my lips. He blushed a little at my catching him but he didn’t move away. Actually, he was standing quite close to me. 

Our faces were already riding on opposing currents again. Our collision was inevitable but I had to know. “Sarkan,” I murmured softly, tasting all its fire and curling smoke. The subtle strength of his name hung on my lips. Something like a low groan escaped the back of his throat as he tried to pull himself out of the current long enough to listen to what I had to say. Our faces only inches apart. “If there really was some spell hidden away in a book that could make you forget me, would you still want to use it?” 

He thought long and hard gazing at nothing. Then his gaze finally fell back on me. “No,” he answered honestly and I believed him. His voice barely above a whisper. 

I grabbed fistfuls of his fancy jacket to pull him against me, to pull his lips to mine. I felt him gasp against my mouth in surprise. The last thing I saw were his wide eyes and open face. I loved that look. I loved it because in that moment he wasn’t the aloof, fearsome Dragon anymore, but just a surprised man with no thorns or walls to hide behind, just Sarkan. 

His lips were a little slow to respond to my abruptness. But quickly, his surprised, frozen lips melted into the rhythm of my kiss. He kissed me back with measured accuracy. An intricacy he used in his most complicated workings. Every movement of his mouth seemed methodical. Every exploration of his hands seemed to have purpose. I responded to his purpose quickly, as I found my heart was pounding and my breath coming faster. I felt as though I was riding down a swift river, being thrown up and pulled down unexpectedly, but ultimately racing towards the edge of the falls. 

But then something happened. A broken cog in his intricacy. A stumble in his method. He swayed in my arms for a brief second. I would have barely noticed if he hadn’t took his hand off my thigh to brace it against the wall to steady himself. I opened my eyes to check on him but he was already kissing me again, his lips scorching a trail down my jaw. 

As his lips delved down lower, my hands slipped under his shirt roving over his bare skin. His skin was soft and silky under my palms. I touched his chest and moved down lower towards his belly. “Agnieszka,” he growled. His breath in my ear made me shiver. I hooked my leg around his hip, able to feel _all_ of him. He moved with me as his burning kisses played near my cleavage. I huffed out an unsteady breath, almost sure he was a real dragon trying to catch me on fire. His slender fingertips traveled up under my dress, almost-. 

But as I began to push his dragon embroidered jacket away from his shoulders, it happened again. He swayed backwards this time. So much so that I nearly had to catch him from falling. I immediately stopped to see what was the matter, but as soon as he found his balance he made to kiss me again. He had hardly seemed to notice that he had almost fainted! 

“Wait,” I said, holding him off. “There’s something wrong with you.” 

He stopped with his lips half puckered and his eyes half closed. Abruptly, he opened his eyes and righted his face back into its natural scowl. He looked at me almost offended. “I can assure you there’s nothing wrong with me.” I could have sworn I saw his eyes dart down himself for a brief second. _Checking_. I would have laughed if I wasn’t a little worried in that moment. 

Then, I took him in. I mean really took him in, without my bias loving eye. He looked awful. I think I had noticed all night, but I just didn’t want to think about it because I had been so happy he was back. When I thought about what I had seen in his spell, I realized why he didn’t look well. The whole time he was away in Kralia he had made himself ill denying his feelings, unable to sleep for even a few hours. I also remembered him begging me not to make him use magic when I had locked myself up here. He loved magic. He would never complain about having to use it. 

I thought about how much magic it must have surely taken for such an intricate working. I was reminded of the ember orange glow of the rose, its peculiar warmth to the touch. And then I thought of Sarkan; his unusual warmth, the ember orange glow that seemed to radiate through his skin when the vines in the grove had let him go. The rose wasn’t only a part of the spell, but I suspected it held a piece of him as well. I was sure he had over spent himself making such a complicated working and also exhausted himself not sleeping. No wonder he had nearly fainted! I almost felt guilty remembering how he had tried to heal my bruised knee. 

“You need to sleep,” I said in a rush.

“You kiss a man like that and then you expect him to want to sleep?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Fine,” straightening his jacket. “It is getting late. Meet me back here tomorrow and we can begin repairs.” He was about to begin his transportation spell. 

“Wait!”

“Yes. Well, you didn’t expect I’d be sleeping in this hovel? I’m staying at the inn in Olshanka should you need me.”

“Would you like to stay with me?” I blurted out. 

“Nieszka, I don’t think your parents would appreciate-”

“No. I have my own place.”

“Well, I don’t think-. What are you doing?” Before he could protest any further, I grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and pulled him into my transportation spell. When the world opened up around us again we were standing in the Wood, feet from my cottage.

“Have you lost your mind you, intolerable lunatic!” He looked wildly around himself as if he were expecting to be attacked, immediately realizing where he was. I felt his hand tighten around mine. 

“Sarkan, do you remember anything I told you about how safe the Wood is now?”

“Well, I didn’t expect you were living in it!” He paused a moment, looking around. “Well where is it?” His hand was still gripping mine, almost painfully, as if he were ready to take me and run. I realized, as I looked at my cottage, in the moonless night it was barely visible. It looked no more then some large bush under the shadow of an oak. With a flick of my wrist I lit the candles and the hearth, bringing the cottage to life and into view from the heavy darkness that surrounded us. 

“You live in a tree!” he said, outraged. 

“It’s not a tree. It’s a cottage, made from a tree.” I said proudly. 

“Are you deranged?” 

I pulled him over the threshold, humming Jaga’s calming spell and patting him in like a spooked horse. His breath hitched when he entered as if he were taken by surprise. While I was getting an extra blanket and pillow, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He looked around in wide eyed wonder. Something like a pleased smile played at the curve of his lips. 

“This was made with your magic.” not really asking, just confirming the fact. Of course he could sense it, the small room I’m sure was steeped with my magic.

“I can see you really like it.” 

He gave me a look that said, ‘ _Don’t push your luck, Agnieszka_.’ 

He strode further in the room hanging his jacket on the hook near my hearth and took his boots off, placing them neatly on the floor beside the bed. He sat down carefully on the end of my bed curiously fingering the grass coverlet. A sudden shyness fell between us. He held himself stiffly as we fell into an awkward silence for a few moments. I think we both came to the realization that we had meant to share the bed without really thinking. I had put the extra pillow there and he had sat there but we weren’t thinking about being there, together.

Sarkan finally broke the silence. “I could sleep on the chair if you’d like,” his voice quiet.

“No. Please lie down. I’m just...not tired yet.” I sat down at my table and noticed all the herbs I had gleaned the other day, still there waiting to be chopped and dried. I took the opportunity and began the task. It was well past midnight and of course the chore could have waited till morning, but I needed to burn off my nervous energy. 

“You know I have taught you no less then four different cantrips for that,” he commented, watching me begin to chop. He was already lying back on the pillows with his hands clasped behind his head.

“I enjoy doing it by hand sometimes.” 

“Yes, I do suppose it has its benefits. Keeps the reflexes sharp.” 

From there we fell into easy conversation. I told him of the finer details of training walkers, while he explained how he was able to purge the remaining corruption from Kralia. He lay propped up on one elbow listening intently as I described to him how I devised the spell I had on my signaling candles. A passionate spark in his eyes shone through at his interest in magic. 

As the night wore on and I had no magic left to talk about I began to tell him all the news of the valley that had happened in his absence; births, deaths, gossip. My focus had been on the last part of my task, putting some of the herbs away in jars and carefully tying others up to dry. 

As we were talking, a late night rain shower had rolled through the Wood. The gentle beat of rain drops pattering on my roof and tapping on my window made my eyes grow heavy. When I began talking about Jerzy and his family, I noticed that for some time the conversation had been one sided. I looked up and saw Sarkan fast asleep. He was on his side, his face turned away from my view. When I shut out the sound of the pattering rain I heard the gentle rhythm of his breath echo through my cottage. 

I was exhausted. I spelled the candles out and climbed into bed, careful not to wake him. I felt perfectly comfortable. It almost seemed silly to have been shy. His eyes fluttered open for a second but immediately closed again after I had settled in. I pulled the blanket around us, he had been sitting on top of the other blanket, so I gave him some of mine. I was surprised that my narrow bed had fit us both so comfortably. 

In fact, for the past couple of days I noticed that my bed seemed to be growing bigger. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but now I came to the conclusion that it must have gotten bigger to fit us both so well. As I came to learn, I suspected magic wasn’t always a neat and tidy thing you could always control. It had a mystery and instinct all of its own, no matter how much Sarkan wanted to deny it. 

I turned on my side, my back towards Sarkan. I closed my eyes, but after a few moments I realized I wasn’t as comfortable as I should have been. Something was missing. After I thought about it for a while I realized what it was. 

I longed to be closer to him. 

The strange thing was, the moment I came to this realization his pale arm snaked under the blanket and wrapped itself around my waist. He gave me a light tug, pulling me in just enough so I fit perfectly against the curve of his body. It was as if some unconscious part of me had called him and some unconscious part of him had responded. 

As I drifted off to sleep listening to the pattering rain and Sarkans’ rhythmic breath, I realized I didn’t know what our future held, but right now I was happy. 

(Sarkan)

Truth be told, I had not yet fallen asleep. But if I hadn’t at least closed my eyes and breathed a bit louder she would have droned on and on all night about every detail the valley had to offer, down to the smallest toadstool! And I also knew that she might have been a little nervous getting into the same bed with me. I was a bit nervous myself. At least if she thought I was already asleep, it would be easier for her to do so. I know it might seem ridiculous being we had already been _together_ , but somehow without the urgency of passion, sleeping in the same bed _just_ to sleep almost seemed more intimate. 

Even though I wanted consciously to give her her space, something _pulled_ me to her. The need to hold her. Almost involuntary, my arm wrapped around her as she slept. Her wild hair tickled my nose as I breathed her in. It should have annoyed me. But it didn’t. 

As I held her, I wondered if she truly knew just how much she had me under her spell. Even before I left for Kralia I had fought to keep my distance, but she had thoroughly slayed me. What was even crazier, I reveled in being slayed, I enjoyed being under her spell. I was glad I lost the battle to stay away. Of course I was terrified, but it was still what I wanted. What was the use of living in fear of loss, if I had stayed away I would have lost her everyday, little by little. A slow, insidiousness type of pain. 

Before I drifted off to sleep, I could have laughed at the irony of it all! Thinking about how after battling the Wood for over one hundred years, nearly being devoured by a heart-tree and trying desperately not to put down roots with any of the villagers. I was now in the Wood, sleeping in a tree no less, with the most absurd girl in all the valley, with whom I was hopelessly in love. Strangely, when I did finally fall asleep it was the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in all my one hundred and fifty years. It was almost poetic if you subscribe to that sort of silly nonsense.

**Author's Note:**

> As always comments and reviews are much appreciated. I originally wrote this work as part of another work but later decided to break them up into two different fics. So if you'd like to hear the funny story Sarkan alluded to as his reason for coming back then I highly recommend reading, 'Let Her Go'. Although, reading them separately works fine too. I also wrote a couple other Uprooted fan-fics that are hopefully worth checking out if you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading :)


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